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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011694">Unknown Subject</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid'>dralexreid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dr Piper Bishop [78]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dinner dates, Gen, Light Angst, Reference to sexual assault, Sexual Assault, Slight Smut, Therapy, light fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:20:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial rapist resurfaces in Houston and assaults his past victims || Prentiss attempts to overcome last year's trauma.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr Spencer Reid/Dr Piper Bishop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dr Piper Bishop [78]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Enter Pianoman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There will be a warning before the smut scene but it can be ignored if you feel uncomfy &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Piper leaned against her bike outside the building, checking her watch. The smell of rain on earth always managed to ease her senses. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Petrichor.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Another text made her cell buzz and she reached into the pocket of her white slacks to pull out her cell, checking the text.</span>
</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <b>187: </b>
    <em>
      <span>Conference room in 20. Where are you?</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Piper smiled slowly. Spencer hated texting, which means he was probably stuck somewhere he didn’t want to be. She dialed his number, and he picked up instantly.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Hey,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> his voice was warm and slightly relieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You needed a rescue?” Piper asked with a small grin on her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, I’m with Kevin. Tell Hotch I’ll be there in a sec.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, you tell Hotch that I’m picking up Em. I’ll meet you in 20,” Piper said with a snicker. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You got it.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Piper slipped the cell back into her pocket, looking up as Emily walked down the steps of the building. “Well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clean bill of mental health,” Emily said, smiling. She looked good, Piper noted. Healthier, happier. She’d taken time with her makeup and her outfit, wearing a simple beige turtleneck under a dark blue blazer. “What’s got you all smiley?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same thing that always does,” Piper answered vaguely, swinging a leg around her bike. “Hop on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were headed for Houston to deal with a serial rapist. The media had swept it up into a frenzy, calling him the Pianoman. They’d consulted on the case 8 months ago, a joint profile made by Hotch, Morgan and Rossi. The unsub crossed racial, social and age lines. The M.O. was simple, knocking the women out with a date rape drug and binding them with piano wire. Piper winced at the mention of piano wires. Not only were they hard to track down, but they also varied from different types of metals, from cheap steel to heavy titanium. The victims would wake up with no memory of the assault or how they ended up with the scarring. Emily asked Penelope how he dosed them but she had no idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Date rape drugs metabolise quickly and he’s keeping them for 12 hours.” Derek tried to ignore how beautiful Penelope looked sitting next to him. Her pink glasses matched her cardigan and flower brooch, framing her brown eyes and complementing the dark eyeshadow that matched her top. She was wearing a little tiara in her hair, dark blue earrings dangling from her ears that matched the peacock pendant nestled above her breasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Derek cleared his throat, “why are they calling us in now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because with these most recent attacks, this piece of work has elevated ‘sick and twisted’ to a whole new dimension, cases in point.” Brittany Anderson filed a report after she woke up outside the restaurant she was abducted from. Vanessa Campbell was just reported missing. They were both victims 2 and 5 of the Pianoman. “He’s going back and raping the survivors a second time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Dave asked. “What does he get from revisiting his victims?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Power,” Piper answered, her nose scrunched in disgust from the case they were dealing with. “He’s making sure they haven’t forgotten him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once isn’t enough?” Emily scoffed, flipping through the photos on her tablet of Vanessa Campbell’s home. “What’s that? The, uh, the white and chunky splatter on the floor.” Penelope looked sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eugh, that is the contents of Vanessa Campbell’s stomach that she… ralphed up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Ralph?” Spencer whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slang, babe,” Piper whispered back. “It’s vomit.” Spencer’s lips frowned, slightly disgusted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a saltwater mixture in the glass,” Penelope added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She made herself throw up,” Piper discerned quickly, making the team look at her. “Common habit for people with eating disorders,” she justified with a slight shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vanessa and her husband moved houses, upped their security, they took precautions,” Emily listed. “She even knew what to do if she was dosed again and it still wasn’t enough. That’s what he gets out of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their fear,” Aaron surmised. “He wants them to know that no matter what, he can still get to them.” He sent them home to pack their bags and meet on the plane when it was ready for them. Piper packed her tablet and files into her bag and waited for the conference room to be empty, save for Spencer before speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what did Kevin want with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He came up to me and said he wanted to get to know me.” Piper pursed her lips at Spencer’s answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, obviously, you texted me.” She smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you came to the rescue, like always,” he murmured before pressing his lips to hers softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always,” Piper said, smiling like an idiot as Spencer tucked his things away. “You look good today.” Spencer scrunched up his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say that every day.” Piper shrugged as she looped her pinkie in Spencer’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look good every day,” she reasoned, tugging him closer so she could fix his crooked tie. “And I have a feeling you do that on purpose.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of her nose before whispering, “Maybe.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. PSA: Don’t Lie To Your Therapist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aaron confronts Emily about her adjustment to the job and a romantic relationship with Sergio || Derek makes a bad joke</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emily dumped her bags in the back of the jet before making her way inside with a carry-on. She swiped the curtains, which happened to be the same colour as her turtleneck, aside to walk into an essentially empty passenger side, save for Aaron who sat in the middle holding a file. Emily glanced at her watch. What was the possibility that everyone else was late? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably none.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she announced nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Aaron answered casually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I thought you said 10:30?” Emily said, facing Aaron with a confused expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” he said, looking up at her, without any explanation. “For you. Sit down.” Emily furrowed her brow but sat down anyway. “I received Dr Merrell’s evaluation. I just wanted to review it with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here?” Emily asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get tired of being profiled through my office window,” he said, forehead wrinkling. It was his usual tell when he found something funny. His eyes would slightly brighten, the corners of his lips were upturned. Emily was often guilty of doing that, as were Spencer and Piper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is there to discuss?” Emily asked, still slightly confused. “She gave me a clean bill of health.” Aaron tapped the edge of the file, which Emily caught before he turned to the file, beginning to read aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patient shows no hesitation tackling difficult goals. As part of reintegrating into her life, she has reached out to her mother,” Aaron looked at her, amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to,” Emily said, reaching out a hand in reassurement. That was a call she wasn’t particularly looking forward to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And has started a romantic relationship with a man named Sergio?” She poked her tongue out slightly as she glanced out the window. That was going to be a tough one to explain. “Now, I don’t care if you lie to your therapist. All I care about is how your behaviour affects the job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it has,” Emily countered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been overcompensating,” Aaron replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How have I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You rushed to repair your relationship with Morgan. You’re more open about your life with Bishop. You’ve become an emotional sounding board for Rossi and Reid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s being a good friend,” Emily justified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You offered me parenting advice,” Aaron retorted calmly. Emily saw what made him such a good litigator. His ability to remain calm and render the other speechless was his greatest asset and Emily’s greatest annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morgan held me in his arms as I died,” Emily started. “Bishop deceived the entire team and put her relationship on the line on </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> word. Reid almost relapsed. So, I’ve been working a little harder to rebuild and regain their trust. Is that a bad thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Aaron said. “It only is if you use it to avoid dealing with what you went through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m not,” Emily said, a slight laugh on her lips. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>chose</span>
  </em>
  <span> to come back here. Why? Because I care about the people I work with?” she challenged, “Yes. But also because it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>clean</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I know who the good guys and the bad guys are. I don't have to worry about screwing someone over to make a case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Aaron conceded. “I want you to make a deal with me. You’re gonna go weeks, months even, feeling fine. And then you're gonna have a bad day. Just let me know when you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” Emily asked, feeling incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it,” Aaron affirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal,” Emily said quietly, and Aaron placed the file on the table, a slight smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sergio?” Emily smirked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is the perfect man. He doesn’t hog the covers and he poops in a box.” Aaron gave her his rarest smile as they waited for the others to arrive so they could take-off. Which they did. JJ was shaking her head as she took a seat next to Emily with Rossi before being followed by Piper swatting at Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did he do now?” Emily asked Spencer who was having fun watching them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He made a joke about M&amp;Ms,” Spencer said between laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calling it a joke is blasphemous,” Piper insisted, sliding up on the free table with one last slap at Derek’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Prentiss, why did the M&amp;M go to college?” Derek asked, chuckling broadly as he leaned on her seat, dodging a flying eraser from Piper. “Cause he wanted to be a smartie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t laugh at your own joke,” Piper announced with an accusatory finger, trying to desperately strangle the laugh threatening to bubble out of her throat. Aaron locked eyes with Emily who was smiling shamefully before turning the conversation back to the case at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, the results came back from Vanessa Campbell’s vomit and there’s no trace of Rohypnol or GHB,” Spencer remarked. “Date rape drugs are fast, but not that fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“However he's dosing them, it's not through their stomachs,” Aaron surmised. “What about the victims?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Media got hold of Vanessa Campbell and Brittany Anderson’s second sexual assault and more women are coming forward,” JJ announced. “Three more women came forward to report it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That checks out,” Piper said quietly. “A vast majority of women don’t report it the first time. A second time is devastating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piper, you’ve got more experience with sexual assault survivors, I want you leading the interviews.” She nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna need their backgrounds,” Piper announced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk to Garcia,” Aaron encouraged, drawing his attention to the rest of them while Piper moved to the back corner of the jet to call Garcia and pour herself a cup of coffee. Aaron tasked Derek and Spencer with Vanessa Campbell’s house while Rossi and JJ would take the restaurant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer sauntered down to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup while watching Piper out of the corner of her eye. She liked working out of notebooks, rather than pads, making background notes of each of the victims she’d have to interview. Her hair was clipped back, her peach shirt sleeves pulled back to her elbows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat in front of Piper, watching her work methodically. 2 years ago, she would have smacked his arm with her pen and told him to go annoy Derek. Somewhere along the line, she’s started to grow comfortable under his gaze. Her tongue poked out slightly as she concentrated, swiping a strand of hair behind her ear. “You might want to drink that coffee before it gets cold, lover boy,” Piper murmured, not even looking up, but smirking all the same. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Smoking Isn't Very Good For You Anyway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The team start figuring out exactly how the women were taken || Piper interviews the women, each conversation ripping at her soul.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Piper had spent no more than 15 minutes with each interviewee, trying to do it as quickly and painlessly as possible. “How’s it going?” Emily asked her as she scribbled notes onto a page.</p><p>“Hmm?” Piper asked, pulling her earphones out. “What’s up?” Emily glanced at Aaron before sitting down.</p><p>“Your interviews?” Piper nodded, chewing her lip.</p><p>“They don’t remember much but they’re all smokers from before they were attacked," she answered, "I’ve got Spencer and Derek asking Mr Campbell if his wife smokes. I think that might be why the stomach contents didn’t have any drugs in the system.”</p><p>“They breathed it in," Emily realised, "How’d you figure it out?”</p><p>“Intense stress is often a stressor for addiction tendencies. A-A heroin addict starts to scratch their arm. But smokers aren’t the same. They start becoming restless, they look for where they know the cigarettes are and then they ask if you’re done or if they can take a walk. Or if you’re like Diane, you outright ask if you can have a smoke.”</p><p>“So he must have switched out the packet or leant them a cigarette,” Emily surmised as a cellphone rang out.</p><p>“I’m thinking that it’s the prior. The conscious mind might not remember it, but I’m sure their subconscious does,” Piper said, pulling out her cell. Emily just barely caught the name on the caller screen. <em> 187 </em>. She snorted softly as Piper answered. “What’s up, Reid?” </p><p>
  <em> “Vanessa smoked. And the unsub took out the window with something like a centre punch.” </em>
</p><p>“What’s that?” Piper asked, her nose scrunching up.</p><p>“It's a spring-loaded device used to punch divots into metal,” Emily replied, “It also breaks glass.” Piper turned, giving her a curious look. “Sometimes Derek says stuff and sometimes, very rarely, I listen.” She laughed softly before paying attention to Spencer again.</p><p><em> “Well, we couldn’t find cigarettes anywhere,” </em> Derek’s voice came through. They must have been on speaker. <em> “But the Campbells had a media centre. We just looked at the history, and it’s been wiped.” </em> Emily nodded slowly</p><p>“We’ll update Hotch, you get it to Garcia.”</p><p>“And try not to flirt while you’re at it,” Piper snickered before hanging up. Derek, very obviously, ignored Piper’s request, asking Penelope what she could find on the media centre’s hard drive. The unsub had cleared the log at 7:43 pm after loading his own MP3 track, then deleting it. </p><p><em> “Fortunately, whatever is imported onto this computer is downloaded to the home network, so, ladies and gentlemen, the mystery song of Mr Gruesome is…” </em> The song played out on the conference call between the agents at the precinct and the duo at the Campbell residence.</p><p>“I know that song,” Aaron supplied, “<em>You’re the Inspiration</em> by Chicago.” Piper and Emily both looked at him with arched eyebrows. “How young are you guys?” </p><p>“How old are you?” Piper retorted, her eyes narrowed at him.</p><p>
  <em> “Mr Campbell said Vanessa would burst into tears every time it came on the radio.” </em>
</p><p>“And he just happens to play that track on this night?” Emily scoffed as Piper’s brow furrowed, tapping her pen on the table. Dave stared at her until she sighed deeply.</p><p>“It’s Pavlov’s dog,” she breathed, running a hand through her hair, “They remember it subconsciously and now it’s a trigger for them. Classic conditioning.” They watched her snap her notebook shut and revisit the victims. Some of them were happy to stay under a close guard with a female officer. Others, like Diane, just wanted to go home. By the time Spencer and Derek returned, Piper was done, sticking up four flashcards below each of their victims. “Maybe I’m Amazed, Lady in Red, Up Where We Belong and Glory of Love,” Piper listed.</p><p>“Why these songs?” Aaron asked, “What do they say about him?”</p><p>“I can do a content analysis,” Piper offered, just wanting to do something that would take her mind off of how horrific this all was while Derek answered a text message.</p><p>“They just found Vanessa Campbell’s body,” he announced.</p><p>“He’s never killed before,” Spencer pointed out, brows furrowed. “Are we sure it’s him?”</p><p>“Coroner will have his report for us by morning,” Derek relayed. “Preliminary report says he used a piano wire as a garotte.” Spencer caught the way Piper closed her eyes a moment longer when she blinked, gripping the chair tighter, her tongue poking out to wet her lips. Aaron dismissed them all to their hotel rooms, telling them to get a ‘fresh start’ in the morning. </p><p>Spencer chewed his bottom lip as Piper sent the victims home with police protection and her personal number while he organised the files. JJ squeezed his shoulder before following the others out, distracting his gaze from Piper who leaned against one of the precinct doors, rubbing her face tiredly. Breathing in deeply, Piper moved over to their workspace, taking a seat as she pulled out her tablet, which Spencer snatched from her hands. “Spence,” she pleaded, “Give it back.”</p><p>“You barely had anything to eat,” Spencer retorted. “You can do the content analysis later. Dinner first.” Piper pouted, trying her best puppy eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”</p><p>“Is it working?” Piper asked, smiling.</p><p>“Honestly, a little,” Spencer admitted, “Dinner. With me.”</p><p>“An offer that’s usually too tempting to refuse, but I want to get this done,” Piper countered, holding her hand out.</p><p>“Okay, that stings,” Spencer said, pouting slightly. “You’d rather analyse songs than get dinner with me?” Piper stood up, not in the mood for Spencer’s rare humour.</p><p>“If it means we can catch this unsub, yes.” She reached out, taking advantage of Spencer’s falter to grab the tablet.</p><p>“You’re trying to distract yourself,” Spencer pointed out.</p><p>“Maybe,” Piper admitted, digging in her bag for her pair of earphones. “They’re all love songs, all from the 80s.”</p><p>“There are better distractions,” Spencer prodded, “Healthier ones too.” She ignored him, rummaging in her purse until he reached out for her arm. “Pipes, please.” He watched her let out a breath.</p><p>“I hate feeling like this,” Piper said quietly, making Spencer sit down next to her, clasping her hand. “Knowing there’s nothing I can do.” Spencer jutted out his bottom lips in thought.</p><p>“What do you want to do?” She sighed again, raising a hand to card through her hair until she remembered it was in a ponytail.</p><p>“I want to nail this guy,” she admitted, feeling his thumb run soothing circles into her hand.</p><p>“Okay, and having dinner stops you how?” Spencer asked, a slow smile spreading on his face as Piper parted her lips in speechlessness before slapping his arm softly. “What was that for?” he laughed.</p><p>“For being annoyingly nice.”</p><p>“So, dinner?” Piper rolled her eyes but laced her fingers through his anyway.</p><p>“What did you have in mind?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you are either a minor or uncomfortable with smut, please ignore the next chapter. Please keep in mind that I am 18 (at least at the time of uploading) and am very uncomfortable with minors reading the next chapter (when it comes out)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Folie à Deux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>song: I Don't Care by Fall Out Boy || Spencer &amp; Piper go out for dinner</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just to reiterate: there are sexual themes in the second half of this fic. Please skip ahead if you are uncomfortable/a minor</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Piper was trying to focus. Spencer had found a last minute reservation at a nice, small Italian place. They had a cozy table in the back corner and lightbulbs dangled from the open ceiling. She’d barely touched her pasta, focusing on the lights glittering above them and running through the interviews in her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody believes a slut who cries wolf.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She was itching to get back to work, to try and find this </span>
  <em>
    <span>asshole</span>
  </em>
  <span>, unable to stop the rage flooding in her veins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piper?” Spencer called her name softly. Her eyes were hazy, her finger mindlessly tapping her fork. Usually, music was her strong suit, but she didn’t listen to Paul McCartney or Peter Cetera. She’d heard of Lady in Red, but the only 80s music she listened to was the rock kind, the kind her father loved teaching her to play. “Piper?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Piper looked over, as though he’d interrupted her from work. Her brow was arched curiously, even as her eyelids weighed down on her. Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced at him and he sighed deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked wonderful, as he always did. His hair was a curly mess and his scarf was a dark shade of rainbow. His favourite dark blue coat hung from the back of his chair, his tie slightly crooked as always. “You haven’t eaten anything,” he remarked worriedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that hungry,” Piper said quietly, making his shoulders sag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re angry, but angry isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Spencer pleaded. “And starving yourself isn’t going to help either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what? We just--we ignore it? A woman has died, another three are counting on us to nail this guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we will,” Spencer affirmed. “But not tonight.” He reached his hand across their table to place it over her hand. Piper took in a deep breath, nodding slowly as she raised his knuckles to press a soft kiss on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I told you I love you?” Her smile was genuine, but didn’t quite reach her eyes. But he took what he could get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t hurt to hear it again,” Spencer said, smiling as he turned to his food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you were saying something about Pavlov?” Piper asked, actually picking up her fork as Spencer’s smile broadened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pavlov’s first independent research was on the physiology of the circulatory system and was so skilful a surgeon that he was able to introduce a catheter into the femoral artery of a dog almost painlessly without anesthesia and to record the influence on blood pressure of various pharmacological and emotional stimuli.” Piper recited absentmindedly, twirling her fork through pasta, making Spencer’s forehead furrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s...what I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>verbatim</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Spencer said slowly. “You weren’t even paying attention.” Piper shrugged, lifting the fork to her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe my subconscious was,” Piper smirked before taking a bite. “I didn’t know he was a surgeon though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t cover his autobiography in psych 101,” Spencer said, still slightly unnerved by how she’d recited his words. But that didn’t stop him telling her everything he found interesting about Pavlov. She loved the sound of his voice, how passionately he spoke. How had she ever expected to compete with him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere on the way back to their hotel, the conversation had changed from Ivan Pavlov to brainwashing during the Russian Revolution to Rasputin’s incapability to die. “So, apparently, the lethal poisons didn’t work at all, like they didn’t even make him sick and then the assassins had to shoot him like three times,” she said, shrugging off her blazer and folding it over her chair. “And even then, they didn’t think he was really dead so they threw him into the river.” Spencer’s brows furrowed as he watched Piper pick out an album on her iPod and connect it to the speaker. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Folie à Deux </span>
  </em>
  <span>started playing, filling the room with music. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were they trying to kill him anyway?” Spencer asked, hanging his coat up when Piper stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, there were rumours that he was sleeping with the Tsarina and he had the stockpile on political influence. He was like their spiritual advisor and people didn’t really like that. So they killed him,” Piper said simply, shrugging her shoulders and Spencer snorted slightly. “It’s true,” she insisted, moving to smack Spencer’s shoulder. He stepped into the blow, taking the hit to wrap his arms around Piper’s waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you could say the royal family was wrapped around Rasputin’s magic finger?” Spencer said, making Piper laugh at the innocent innuendo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I think the Tsarina probably was,” Piper snickered, quickly quietened by Spencer’s lips. His hands travelled up her torso, clutching at her jaw for life as his fingers tangled in the roots of her hair. Piper’s mouth parted, intoxicating him with the taste of wine on her soft lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as she pulled him by his belt to her waist before unbuckling it. His breath quickened between kisses as her fingers danced over his chest, making slow, lazy work of his cardigan and shirt, all the way up to his tie. He shrugged it off, smiling softly as her hands rose to caress his neck. “You think you can be quiet enough?” Spencer breathed out before diving to capture her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure I can manage,” Piper mumbled, her heartbeat rising as he pulled at her peach coloured shirt, his warm fingers flush against her beige skin as they inched higher from her waist. His touch ignited something in her belly and she almost let out a disappointed groan when his hands pulled away only to pull the top from her slim body, only to chuckle when Spencer pulled her by the wrists to the foot of the bed. Her wavy brown hair spilled slightly over her shoulders, the dark strap of her camisole covering her otherwise bare skin as she straddled him, rocking very gently, just to tease him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> can keep quiet?” Piper whispered before pressing hard, sloppy kisses along his jaw and neck, her usually soft fingers tugging at his locks, eliciting a soft moan, especially when she pulled away to tug the camisole off. Her skin was smooth, the bruising on her abdomen long healed. Still, he was careful not to hurt her, his hands gliding over her lower back, one rising to the nape of her neck, the other down to tug at the waistband of her white slacks. She smiled against his lips as the fabric fell to the floor, pushing him against the bedsheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust you to turn everything into a competition,” he murmured, gently flipping her over. His body was pressed against her, his boxers discarded on the foot of the bed. He pulled at her bottom lip with his own, almost biting gently, the room growing much warmer as they left her lips to trail kisses down her body, between her breasts. She bit her lip so hard, she thought it might bleed as his lips drifted lower. With gentle but insistent fingers, Spencer tugged the dark, slightly lacy underwear off, and Piper thanked her foresight to have rock music drowning out her moans as Spencer’s tongue rubbed slow, deep circles inside her folds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spencer,” she hissed out, his name a prayer on her lips, grunting softly as he withdrew his lips, leaving her teetering on the edge of orgasm. Instead, he turned to press hard, sloppy kisses to the inside of her thighs until she tugged on his locks. “Please,” she begged quietly and with a swift kiss and a smirk, he murmured against her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Impatient, aren’t we?” Piper took it as a challenge, flipping him over with a smirk. She rested atop him comfortable, a hand resting on the headboard for support. Spencer’s hand came up to tuck a dangling strand of her hair behind her ear with an almost giddy smile as the music drowned out their voices. She looked beautiful, her eyes dark with desire, a silver pendant hung loosely from her neck as she bent down to hover her lips tantalisingly above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should know better,” she spoke, her voice only perceptible to him, “I always take what I want.” And despite the authority in her voice, her eyes still held a question, waiting for him to nod before she sheathed his cock, tantalisingly slow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Piper,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” she hushed him, the grin never leaving her lips. “I didn’t take you for a loser,” she muttered, sliding in and out, relishing in how his eyes closed, how he bit his lip in an effort to stay silent. Her rhythm was slow, teasing him until finally, he swore, rolling her over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna wipe that smile off your face,” he muttered darkly, pinning her to the bed as he pumped into her. And he always kept his promises, both of them struggling to stay as quiet as possible, only letting the odd curse word slip out breathily as their rhythm grew faster until their collective pleasure overwhelmed the both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piper thought she might implode if she didn’t cry out but he pressed his hot lips to hers just before she could, muffling her cry. Slowly, he drew out of her, falling to his side as her fingers trailed along the side of his torso. “I love you,” she whispered as a soft rock song played from her playlist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s my Winona</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Spencer noted. He’d been getting used to Piper’s music, especially considering it seemed to become a Pavlovian conditioning tool. Purely accidental, he supposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.” And he did. He loved how soft her hair felt in his hands. He loved how she smelled of hyacinths and vanilla. He loved how gentle her fingers felt tangled in his curly locks. How perfectly she fit tucked away in his arms, her fingers trailing down his spine, slowly lulling them to sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Cat in Gloves Catches No Mice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Spencer finds a key clue to fill in their profile || Penelope finds their unsub || Piper revisits the victims</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Spencer’s nose scrunched slightly as he rolled over to feel a strange lump on her side of the bed. Very slowly, and slightly grumpily, he opened one eye to see her sitting up in bed. Her hair was freshly brushed, but she hadn’t bothered tying it up or clipping it back. Instead, they fell in wavy curls over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her usually tender brown eyes were fixed on her lap, the end of her pen tapping lightly on her rosy lips. More importantly, she was wearing his shirt. He knew it for two main reasons; the first being that he distinctly remembered her fingers slowly removing it for him and the second being that the sleeves were far too long for her arms, the hem practically coating her fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humming slightly, Spencer moved his head (which felt far heavier than normal) to place it on her lap. As expected, she abandoned the pen in her hand to comb through his tangled locks. “Morning,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time is it?” he said softly. He meant to make it sound grumpier. It didn’t work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“6:45 am,” she said absent-mindedly. Her fingers went still in his hair, focusing on her tablet instead. “Each song is a piano ballad, all of them from the mid to late 80s. What are the odds that our unsub is in his 40s?” Spencer broke into a yawn, giving up on any chance of cuddling with her as he rose to a sitting position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think that?” Spencer asked softly, nestling his chin onto her shoulder. His lips brushed softly right under her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sexual exploration usually starts in the early adolescent stage which coincides with the age when juveniles develop their self-concept,” Piper started, settling into an easy rhythm while Spencer watched her adoringly. “So, if he was a teenager when he starting listening to these songs, he was probably born in the 70s--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meaning he must be in his 40s. Like Hotch,” he said, mirroring Piper’s smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of which, he texted you,” Piper said, making him groan and collapse back onto his pillows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to,” he whined, almost childishly. For a moment, he reminded her of a younger Daniel, refusing to go to school. Quickly, she dismissed the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t even know what he--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants me to go to the M.E. with him,” he groused. “I don’t want to.” This time Piper couldn’t dissolve her smile. She abandoned her tablet to lean on his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gotta go to work, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t,” he insisted, pulling her down to the pillows with him. She let out a short peal of laughter, falling down next to him. “We could just stay here. You and me.” If it wasn’t for his complete and utter seriousness in the short sentences, she would have laughed again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As tempting as that is, those women need our help,” she whispered with absolute gravity in each and every word. “I promised them I would help. And I can’t help them without you.” Spencer closed his eyes, so long that Piper almost thought he was asleep until he leaned over to pull slowly on her lower lip as he kissed her. Her hand moved instinctively to cup his jaw, barren of her usual rings. He’d grown used to the familiar hiss of cold silver against his skin. Spencer hummed against her soft lips, tempted to stay in bed all day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need a vacation,” he muttered in acquiescence before pulling away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Piper sang, leaning back as she watched Spencer get his affairs in order. Including his scattered clothes.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>If Spencer was in a bad mood that morning, Aaron either didn’t notice or didn’t particularly care. He was more preoccupied with the dead body prostrated on the silver coroner’s table. Aaron noticed ligatures peeking just aside of the flimsy white linen that covered Mrs Campbell’s pale body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to the coroner, the tissue inflammation is consistent with the inhalation of some kind of drug, affirming the team’s theory. More appropriately, Bishop and Reid’s theory. The ligature marks were just new wounds on top of old ones. Thankfully, there had been no sexual assault, but the coroner assumed it was because she regained consciousness at some point and fought back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t show any defensive wounds, though,” Spencer countered. He was dressed warmly, a checkered full-sleeve shirt he hadn’t bothered to pull up to his elbows. He was wearing a pale beige sweater-vest with a simple trim. His tie was patterned with pale purple leaves, one that wasn’t crooked today, a direct result of Piper’s discerning eye. Although he had a feeling she liked straightening his ties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I did fish this out of her trachea,” the coroner replied, passing Spencer a plastic baggie containing…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A neoprene glove,” he murmured, stretching the bag to get a better look at the remnant. Specifically a tatter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She must have bit him,” the coroner explained to Aaron. “My best guess is she bit him. Not enough to break the skin, unfortunately.” Aaron’s gaze was fixed at Spencer, particularly the way he stared at the material. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An exam glove?” Hotch asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most likely,” the coroner answered, only to be refuted by Spencer. After all, a man with a PhD in chemistry could recognise the difference between an exam and a surgical glove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, it's a surgical glove,” he said, pressing the sample between his fingers. “A little bit thicker than an exam glove. If he was wearing neoprene, it means he has an allergy to latex.” Aaron didn’t break a smile at the coroner’s befuddled expression, only opting to call Garcia and have her check hospital records. She had a result by the time they got back to the others. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sir, I have struck out on surgeons,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Penelope announced miserably, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“In fact, none of the survivors saw the same two healthcare professionals or went to the same hospitals. But then, I asked myself, what would SSA Hotchner do? And I imagined myself in a really good suit and I widened my search.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Aaron ignored how Emily turned to Piper, asking if Penelope had ever worn a suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found an orderly whose name is Herman Scobie, who rotates shifts at 3 different hospitals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same hospitals the victims go to?” Derek asked, twirling a fork through his chow mein.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, indeed they are. And according to the hospital networks, accessed their insurance months after the attacks.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s how he found them,” Piper sighed, abandoning her food as she picked up her purse from the floor. “I’m gonna get back to the victims. Let them know what we found.” Rossi offered to give her a ride and Emily watched them leave.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Telling a loved one that a victim had died was hard enough. After that day, telling a victim of a past crime that they might be attacked next was a whole different ball game. It still bugged her that Vanessa hadn’t been raped twice. Her prediction had fallen short. Rossi suggested that Vanessa might not have given him a chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying the Pianoman had 12 victims over the last 5 years,” Piper blurted out while Dave drove them to Diana Mitchell’s house. “Why these 4?” Dave offered her the briefest glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t even facing him as she spoke. Her hand was curled into a loose fist that rested her head. Her elbow was propped up on the open window. It seemed as though Piper had a satin button-up in every pastel shade tucked into a dark ribboned belt looped through her gray slacks. He knew more than well that she probably had ankle holsters tucked into her dark combat boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany was the second victim,” she explained, “Susan was the ninth victim, Tammy was the 11th victim but Diana was the third victim. Vanessa was the fifth victim and the only one that wasn’t sexually assaulted.” Dave just shook his head, pulling up to Diana Mitchell’s house. He pulled out the car key before turning slightly to face Piper better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, this Scobie guy looks good to be our unsub. Let’s do our job while the others do theirs.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. She Who Pays The Piper Calls The Tune</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Derek signalled to the others that he would take the front while Spencer followed JJ around back. Multiple SWAT agents surrounded him armed with submachine guns and waited for him to knock twice on the front door before watching him slam his foot into the edge of the door. They barely waited for the door to fall to the floor before storming in. “Herman Scobie!” Derek yelled out. “FBI!”</p><hr/><p>Piper was settled in Diana’s armchair, clasping a hot mug of coffee she had no intention of drinking. Rossi, on the other hand, had already drained his, waiting for Piper to break the news. “Diana, we found Vanessa’s body last night.” Diana’s face almost wilted from the news. So long as Vanessa hadn’t been found, they’d been safe for a while at least. “The police will still be offering you protection. There’ll be an officer in here and the surveillance car outside.”</p><p>“You-You think he’s coming here again?” Diana asked, her voice barely above a whisper. David was absolutely no help, leaving Piper no choice.</p><p>“It’s just extra protection,” Piper urged her, “But we’re afraid he might have killed Vanessa to silence her.” She adjusted in her seat to settle on her elbows. “Diana, if there’s anything else you remember from the night of the abduction, I need to know.” Diana’s bouncy golden curls flounced as she turned to pierce Rossi with her gaze.</p><p>“I will wait in the car,” David obliged, perfectly happy to leave Piper and Diana to their business. </p><hr/><p>SWAT flushed out a man in scrubs from the main bedroom and Derek’s quick gaze caught him before running after him.</p><p>“Out the back!” he yelled, running past the bathroom and out the back door, only to see Herman run right towards Spencer and JJ.</p><p>Spencer stood a few feet back, his gun aimed right for Scobie, while JJ ran forward, swiping his legs out from under his feet.</p><p>Derek jumped forward, pressing his right boot into Scobie’s 4th and 5th ribs.</p><hr/><p>There are certain things that you notice when you're a lifelong smoker, Diana had said. She could tell the cigarette tasted funny and purely on instinct, she’d crushed it. But it had been enough to knock her out just so the Pianoman could abduct her. Just not completely. </p><p>Diana had ducked in and out of consciousness, her senses coming and going. Piper had no intention of giving her a cognitive interview. Making her relive her trauma was the call a psychiatrist got to make, one that didn’t have an agenda. Instead, she focused on the surface level memories. “I woke up in his van. He wore a mask. I never saw his face. But there were other things, things that were different from what you described.” </p><p>“Things he did?” Piper asked gently, reaching out a hand to clasp hers comfortingly. </p><p>“Things he didn't do,” Diana said. There was something to be said about how brave the woman in front of her was being. To speak of such an unspeakable tragedy with nothing more than a flicker of fear in her eyes and a heart heavy with pain with such stoicism, Piper didn’t know if she should prescribe CBT or laud her. “He didn't tie me up. And there wasn't a song. He talked to me, but there wasn't a song.” </p><p>“Do you remember what he said?” Piper asked, her voice still soft. She had a skill for being unprovocative with her questions.</p><p>“No. When he was done, he bashed my head into the floor of his van.”</p><hr/><p>Derek’s upper lip was curled in disgust as he watched Herman sit placidly in the interrogation room. Frankly, if given a choice, he wanted to slam the man’s face into concrete. Instead, he controlled the insurmountable rage inside him as Emily casually took a seat in front of Herman. </p><p>“Where's my lawyer?” Herman demanded. </p><p>“We called him,” Emily said, not even bothering to make eye contact. She opted to focus on displaying the file. “He's on his way.” Suddenly she stopped, pressing her palms to the table. “I'll tell you what-- I'm gonna let him fill you in on the Piano Man investigation.” Flashing him a smile, Emily stood, making to walk out the door.</p><p>“The what?”</p><p>“The Piano Man,” Emily repeated, “You might have read about him.” </p><p>“A little,” Herman acknowledged. “What, do you think I’m him?” His voice was lazy, as though this was just a waste of his time. Emily concealed her smile well.</p><p>“No,” she said, “At least I don’t.” He watched her indifferently as she took her seat, but both Derek and Emily caught the way Herman folded his bottom lip in. “The problem is, the way you treat some of your dates is a little similar to this guy. Now, I'm not judging.” He shook his head, eyes raised to the gray ceiling. “Some guys like it rough. In fact…” Emily trailed off, breaking eye contact as she laughed. “Never mind,” she admitted, moving to leave again.</p><p>“No, go ahead,” Herman said boredly, leaning forward slightly. Emily laughed nervously again.</p><p>“No, I can’t,” she whispered, trying to remain out of earshot from Derek. </p><p>“Maybe you already did,” Herman said, his voice low. Emily glanced at the two-way mirror before taking the seat again.</p><hr/><p>“Doesn’t she ever get exhausted?” Derek asked Rossi, who’d just joined him to watch. “Getting up, sitting back down constantly?” Dave only grinned, awash with pride from how Emily held herself with the unsub.</p><p>“It’s working, isn’t it?” Dave asked.</p><p>“It always does,” Derek muttered. It didn’t mean he had to like it. His grin faded immediately as JJ brought in Mrs Mitchell, hoping she might be able to identify Herman from his voice or his mannerisms.</p><hr/><p>“Most of the people here aren't as understanding as I am,” Emily said emphasising each word slowly. “So, between us, did you ever get a little too rough?” Her smile was dazzling, even though she wanted to break his nose. “Heat of the moment?” </p><p>“Never.” His voice was almost breathy, his eyebrows raised sardonically. Emily just needed him to incriminate himself and her job was done. Unfortunately, sardonic gestures and lustful voices weren’t enough for a conviction. </p><p>“Never?” Emily asked, her eyebrow arching just like his.</p><p>“Never,” he repeated, his forehead wrinkling. Emily leaned back, trying to work her next angle.</p><p>“What about those naughty girls who came back for seconds?” She asked, leaning forward on her elbows. Her nose was mere inches from him. </p><p>“What about them?” Herman asked, smiling despite himself. Emily almost rolled her eyes as she murmured to him.</p><p>“They’re the ones that are <em> screeching </em> the loudest,” Emily said, backing away only slightly. “What I need from you is a reason to kick them from the curb.”</p><p>“Look at the notches on their bedpost,” Herman insisted. “You really think they’re all so innocent?” Emily giggled, leaning back against her chair.</p><p>“That’s a good one,” she said, smiling at Herman. She wanted to slam his face into the table in between them. <em> God, it would be so easy. </em></p><p>“Besides,” Herman added, leaning forward conspiratorially, “No-one believes a slut who cries wolf.”</p><p>Behind the glass, JJ was quick to wrap an arm around Diana, but the woman only flinched, starting to hyperventilate. “How--That was just something I told myself, how could he--” She watched Emily lean forward with a broad smile. </p><p>“I’m gonna quote you on that,” she said, flashing him a wink before moving to leave. As soon as the door closed behind her, she finally let the facade drop, her lip curling in disgust at what she’d been forced to do. Perhaps she might still have to screw some people over to win a case.</p><hr/><p>Piper pulled up to the last house on her round. <em> Hurricane </em> by Panic! At The Disco blared from the car radio until she turned it off. JJ had agreed to pick up Rossi and Mrs Mitchell and take them back to the precinct while Piper finished off the round. </p><p>Out of all 12 victims, only half of them stayed in Houston. With Vanessa, Susan, Diana, Brittany and Tammy all crossed off, the only one left to talk to was Regina. She supposed it made sense. Herman Scobie may not have been in his 40s, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t into 80s love songs. </p><p>Her warm brown gaze surveyed the large house, slamming the door into the car, making her wince softly. She tossed her keys between her hands, making a small clinking metallic noise. Regina’s life had been ruined after the first assault. Her fiance left her, her parents barely talked to her. Hopefully by telling her that her rapist had been apprehended just might help her sleep at night. </p><p>Piper absentmindedly hummed the song as her brow furrowed. It was a beautifully large house, ivy and moss growing over the wall. As beautiful as it looked, Piper couldn’t believe someone could still live there. But someone had to be home, after all. A grey sedan was parked outside. Sliding the car keys into her pocket, she pulled out her badge, holding her middle finger inside to her ID photo. She’d had to get it redone when she had been reinstated. She rapped the door, humming <em> Memories </em> under her breath. <em> “Oh, memories. Where'd you go? You were all I've ever known.” </em></p><p>Eventually, the door opened just a crack, revealing Regina’s bright eyed face. She was certainly beautiful, despite being at the age when a woman’s facial skin begins to tighten. Bronze tinged under her cheek bones, her lips an ashy rouge colour. She had lovely gray eyes, sharp and clear under the afternoon sunlight. “May I help you?”</p><p>“Regina Lampert?” Piper asked, holding up her badge with a sheepish smile. “I’m with the FBI, I’m helping investigate the Piano Man.” Recognition and pain flashed behind her eyes.</p><p>“I’m not answering any questions,” Regina insisted, her face steeling.</p><p>“Ma’am, I’m not here to ask you anything,” Piper said quickly, holding her hands out to push back on the door. Realising what she was doing, Piper abruptly stepped back. “I thought you might like to know that the FBI have made an arrest.”</p><p>“You got him?” Regina asked, her brow furrowed as she chanced a glance over her shoulder. “That’s impossible.” Piper’s forehead wrinkled.</p><p>“Ma’am?”</p><p>“You don’t have the Piano Man,” Regina affirmed before wrapping a vice-like grip on Piper’s wrist and pulling her inside, slamming the door shut. Piper could only reel back, bumping up to a wooden cabinet as she watched Regina lock the half a dozen bolts on her front door.</p><p>“Not again,” she grumbled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Puppets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry this chapter took a while. had a bit of a family emergency but we're all good now</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spencer stared at his cell. Maybe he should try one last time. Grumbling he dialled her number again, raising it to his ear while the others gathered. Part of him couldn’t help but worry. She’d sent a dozen calls to voicemail, another half left unanswered. </p><p>“Still no answer?” Derek asked, slightly chuckling at the amount of worry Spencer had for his partner. But after everything the two doctors had been through, he wasn’t particularly surprised. Spencer shook his head, hanging up.</p><p>“She’s probably fine, right?” Spencer asked, his eyes narrowing. “I mean, she always picks up.” Derek nodded slowly, taking a sip of his coffee before shrugging.</p><p>“Get Pen to ping her cell,” he offered simply. Spencer nodded, softly slapping the palm of his hand with the phone. </p><p>“Yeah. I can afford her getting pissed off about that,” he scoffed, starting to dial Penelope. “What about the others?”</p><p>“Hotch’s talking to the D.A. with Rossi,” Derek listed, “JJ’s getting a statement from Diana. Emily’s going through Scobie’s background. But we got a positive ID. They’ll want to arraign him as soon as possible.” Spencer nodded again before Garcia answered the cell, letting him put in the request to ping and trace Piper’s cell. </p><p>As certain as they were that they’d found their unsub, the district attorney needed them to have an airtight case, with every victim pinned to Scobie. Spencer found himself stuck with Derek and JJ, leaving for Scobie’s house to find more evidence, specifically his song library. But he spent most of it waiting for a damn phone call. JJ rolled her eyes as Spencer kept staring at the phone even as she looked through the CD albums. “Evanescence, Linkin Park and Nickelback,” she scoffed at the last one.</p><p>“Goth rock,” Spencer murmured, still tapping his forefinger on the phone, making both Derek and JJ look at him. “I live with Piper,” he reminded them and Derek chuckled.</p><p>“Yeah, her taste is a lot better than this crap,” JJ sighed. “I mean, there isn’t even any Rage Against the Machine here.” It was her turn to be looked at by both Spencer and Derek. “What, I rock,” she reasoned. Spencer’s forehead rumpled. </p><p>“No, I know that look,” Derek sighed. “Out with it.”</p><p>“Piper’s playlists always range in bands, we’re talking about ones from ‘94 to recent releases.”</p><p>“So?” JJ asked.</p><p>“So, the only common factor is that they’re all acoustic-based rock music.”</p><p>“I still don’t get it,” Derek confessed.</p><p>“I do,” JJ said smiling. “He’s mad she hasn’t called him back.”</p><p>“You’re not listening,” Spencer urged. “No matter what she always goes to that genre of music. It’s the first thing she’s drawn to. Then this morning, she told me that sexual exploration usually starts in the early adolescent stage which coincides with the age when juveniles develop their self-concept, the same age when they develop music tastes.” JJ sighed, looking at Derek.</p><p>“Are you lost? ‘Cause I’m lost.” But he didn’t seem lost. Derek was mulling over Spencer’s point. </p><p>“We stop listening to the music that our parents put on and we start listening to the music that our friends listen to,” Derek said, translating his point to JJ.</p><p>“And those musical experiences imprint on us,” Spencer said, feeding off Derek. “Our hormonal surges as teenagers may make the choices seem more personal and passionate. And later on in life, we might experiment with other musical selections, but no music ever impacts us as much as that which we listen to at age 14.”</p><p>“Scobie’s what, 30?” JJ asked, looking between the men.</p><p>“If that,” Derek replied. </p><p>“Ok, so mid-to-late nineties is when he started to take music seriously, stuff like this. And the Piano Man's songs were all early eighties.” </p><p>“Which means the signature doesn't fit,” Spencer said, “Herman Scobie's too young to be the Piano Man.”</p>
<hr/><p>Piper was sick of getting kidnapped by victims at this point. She ran a hand through her hair. Spencer had probably called about two dozen times now. Not that there was any point in it anyway. Regina had already switched it off, leaving it on the table as she gestured with her gun for Piper to move into the living room. </p><p>“You said we got the wrong guy?” Piper started while Regina felt her body for a weapon. Piper felt a pang of hopelessness as Regina tossed her Beretta onto another table. The living room was scattered with old furniture and Piper caught a glimpse of a silver-haired man slumped over the piano. “Is that him?” </p><p>Regina was silent, backing away as she started to pace, her hands raised to her head. Perhaps something about having a man strung from the ceiling by piano wires and holding a federal agent against her will was stressful. “Regina, I’m here to help, not hinder. I’m trying to catch the guy who killed Vanessa, who assaulted you.” </p><p>“How can you help?” Regina asked, exasperatedly. Piper held her hands up, stepping forward.</p><p>“I work with the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I get assholes like this guy to confess for a living. I can get him to own up to what he did to you.”</p>
<hr/><p>“How can Herman Scobie not be the Piano Man?” Dave asked as the rest of the federal agents stared at him expectantly. “We've got the medical gloves, the medical records he pulled.” </p><p>“The taunt said to Diana Mitchell he repeated to us,” Emily added, slightly unnerved by how late Piper was to their meeting. </p><p>“Scobie definitely assaulted Diana the second time,” JJ provided. “He's probably re-victimizing all of the survivors.” </p><p>“But apply the profile to Herman Scobie and look at what's different,” Derek supplemented. </p><p>“There's no piano wire and there's no song played,” Aaron reasoned, “You think there are two unsubs, the piano man and a copycat?” </p><p>“A copycat studies the original unsub in order to learn,” Spencer added, still pissed off that Piper had gone MIA. “Herman Scobie's a doppelganger. He's trying to pass himself off as the Piano Man.” <em> Where the hell was she? </em> As if on cue, his phone rang out and Derek had never seen better reflexes from the good doctor. “Dr Reid,” he greeted, slightly disappointed that it was only Garcia.</p><p><em> “Okay, so you know how you told me to ping Piper’s cell?” </em> Aaron looked up at Spencer, forehead wrinkled.</p><p>“You did what?” Spencer winced slightly.</p><p><em> “Her cell’s switched off.” </em> Penelope’s tone was harried, and for good reason. Piper never switched her cell phone off, not when they were on a case. Aaron turned to Dave immediately.</p><p>“Where did she tell you she was going?” The latter merely furrowed his brows innocently.</p><p>“Regina Lampert’s house.”</p>
<hr/><p>Piper watched with baleful eyes as Regina’s hand hung by her side. Piano wire was going to be terribly hard to cut with a knife. She must have shot him in the hand, evident from the blood-soaked linen bandage wrapped around it. “What’s his name?” Piper asked gently but Regina didn’t care about it.</p><p>“I don’t know but it’s him!” she persisted, “Look, last night he was at the bar I work at and he was playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’.” Piper’s nose scrunched, looking at the man.</p><p>“Bonnie Tyler? Really?”</p><p>“I was serenading my wife,” the man persisted.</p><p>“Your wife likes <em> Bonnie Tyler </em>?” Piper’s eyes were narrowed, her upper lip slightly curled in disgust. </p><p>“That’s what I thought,” Regina added, pointing the gun right at him.</p><p>“Hey, hey, woah!” Piper yelled out, instantly putting herself between the two. “Hey, I know. But I don’t think liking Bonnie Tyler’s enough to kill him. You want closure. I can give you that.”</p><p>“How?” Regina asked, lowering her weapon. “He ruined my life. I had a fiance! I wanted a family and he took that from me.”</p><p>“I get it,” Piper said, pulling up her sleeve to show Regina the faint university logo. “Scars fade, but what she did to me… I’m never going to be able to forget that. I wanted to kill her. I almost did.” Regina’s features softened. “But it wouldn’t have helped. The only thing that helps is knowing she’s behind bars.”</p><p>“So, you think I’m right?” Regina asked quietly. “He <em> is </em> the Piano Man?” </p><p>“I don’t know for sure,” she admitted, “Not without a proper interrogation. And if you don’t have hard proof, you could be hurting an innocent man. Regina, do you really want to take that chance?” She saw the conflict flashing in Regina’s eyes. </p><p>“And if he isn’t?” Regina asked, raising her gun, making the man yell. But Piper was quicker, latching her hand around Regina’s arm and twisting it away. She waited a beat for the ensuing gunshot before ripping the pistol out of her hand and sending it skidding over to the front door. </p><p>She reached into her pockets for a pair of cuffs, not realising she’d left them in the car. “You don’t understand! It’s gotta be him,” Regina protested as Piper brought the woman’s wrists down to the small of her back. Piper glanced over her shoulder, reviewing the panic on the man’s face.</p><p>“She’s a lunatic!” he cried out. “You’ve got to let me out of these.” </p><p>“I can appreciate the irony,” Piper said blankly before taking Regina out the door. By the time Piper got the cuffs on Regina and pushed her gently into the back of the SUV, 3 more pulled up to the driveway, all remaining 6 federal agents running out only to falter slightly. “You’re late,” Piper announced, a smirk painted on her lips. </p><p>“You’re starting to make a habit of this,” Derek replied as Spencer rushed forward to her side. His hands found the side of her face, clasping it before scanning her for injuries. </p><p>“Are you hurt?” His amber eyes filled with concern.</p><p>“Physically, no. Emotionally, I’m a little hurt that I went MIA for an hour and no-one was concerned.” But the humour in her eyes was unmistakable. </p><p>“Where’s Bartholomew?” Hotch asked, still serious and grim-faced.</p><p>“Who?” Piper’s brow furrowed. “Oh, was he the guy she kidnapped?”</p><p>“Yeah, where is he?”</p><p>“He’s not going anywhere,” she said calmly. “She uh, she tied him to the piano.” David shook his head, starting to head inside with JJ and Derek. “Oh, and if you find my phone and gun, I’d like them back,” she called out, catching Derek’s chuckle and salute. Spencer was still examining her hands, looking for some kind of injury to fuss over. Hotch knew better than to stop him, merely stepping over and squeezing Piper’s shoulder.</p><p>“You should really stop getting kidnapped,” Hotch said, unmistakable humour in his usually unreadable gaze.</p><p>“I will work on it,” Piper said, grinning slightly.</p><p>“You could look a little less happy about it,” Spencer muttered as their boss walked away while Emily offered to drive Regina back to the precinct.</p><p>“It’s probably the adrenaline,” Piper remarked as Spencer gave up on trying to find an injury, sighing as he wrapped his arms around her waist. His rosy lips were scrunched into a small pout, his amber eyes clouding over. “I’m okay, really,” she affirmed. He shook his head, tossing his hair a little with the motion. She snorted lightly, raising her hand to swipe it out of his eyes. </p><p>“I’m just trying to remember how many times this has happened,” he said seriously.</p><p>“Well, there was Ben Cyrus from that cult,” Piper recalled. </p><p>“Bobby Parker,” Spencer added. “Drew Jacobs, Hollis Walker.” Piper bit her lip, choosing to stare at Spencer’s tie as she muttered the last one. </p><p>“Irene Simmons.” Spencer’s expression became stormy, pulling her closer and softly kissing her hair. “Maybe we should take that vacation after all.”</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Coda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hamilton Bartholomew was under arrest for the rapes of 12 women and the murder of Vanessa Campbell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regina Lampert was under arrest for assault, kidnapping and holding a federal agent against her will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As unfortunate the ending was for the very first victim, the case was closed. The district attorney had an airtight case against Bartholomew and Piper had worded a very strong letter about Ms Lampert’s ability to be rehabilitated. Hopefully, that would be enough to get her a lighter sentence and Piper some peace of mind. Ms Lampert had other ideas in mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An officer from Houston P.D. opened the door for Piper, letting her enter the interrogation room. Cold grey eyes followed her every move as she took a seat in front of Regina. “I was told you’d only give your statement to me,” Piper said quietly, a notepad and pen in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you let me kill him?” Regina’s gaze was insistently curious. Piper let her tongue swipe against her upper lip, a plain fingernail tapping the notepad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it wasn’t your call to make,” Piper answered. “And as much as we’d like to, we can’t be judge, jury and executioner. It isn’t fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t fair to who?” Regina snorted, slumping back against her chair. “Where was fair when he…” She couldn’t quite form the words, or didn’t quite want to. Piper adjusted in her chair, her hands clasped together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To the other 11 women who want the same vengeance of killing their monster. To Bartholomew’s wife and his child and his parents.” Regina shook her head, pursing her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t care. You tried to kill your monster, didn’t you?” Piper’s gaze flickered, if only for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. I missed,” Piper said, her voice flat. “She’s still alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now we both have to live with our monsters,” Regina said. “That’s my statement.” Piper’s jaw clenched imperceptibly as she grasped her notepad and pen and left the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily sat limply in the chair behind the glass, a leg crossed over the other. It was as though Regina was staring back at her, as though she knew Emily was watching her. Her usually sharp dark eyes were hazy, only blinking when she felt Aaron squeeze her shoulder. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m having a bad day,” Emily said quietly.</span>
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